


Intimate Details

by CameoAmalthea, Cherry, hecatesbrat, Licoriceallsorts, orphan_account



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, FFVII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drabble, Furniture, M/M, Round Robbin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoAmalthea/pseuds/CameoAmalthea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry/pseuds/Cherry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecatesbrat/pseuds/hecatesbrat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Licoriceallsorts/pseuds/Licoriceallsorts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at various rooms in the world of FFVII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rufus's Bedroom for Reno: By CameoAmalthea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Licoriceallsorts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Licoriceallsorts/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a Round Robin where each author adds a picture of a character's room and a scene within that room between two or more characters. If you would like to contribute join simply ask and we will you add you as a co-author, you can also participate on tumblr here: http://cameoamalthea.tumblr.com/post/62530595527/reglissenoire-reno-is-my-poison-cameoamalthea by reblogging and adding furniture and a scene. All submissions on tumblr will be added to this fic with the author added as a co author and credited on the chapter.
> 
> There are no rating restrictions, but if you add a chapter containing higher rated content, please add adjust the rating/add warnings as needed. Additionally, please update character and pairing tags as needed.

[](http://s55.photobucket.com/user/CameoAmalthea/media/Luxurious-bed-with-traditional-design-in-green-color_zps29a957a6.gif.html)

“New furniture, boss?” asked Reno.

“Very astute, now would you be so kind as to go sit on the bed?” asked Rufus.

Reno cocked his head to the side. “What?” he asked. “Is that an order, sir?”

“A request, just humor me. I want to see something.” 

The Turk shrugged and went into the room, flopping down on the bed face first. He lay there a moment and then rolled over to sit up, bouncing just a bit. “It’s nice?”

“Just as I hoped, a perfect match. You go with the decor perfectly, the whole room just looks better with you in my bed.” 

Reno blinked at him. “Did you really redecorate your whole room to set up a cheesy pick up line?”

Rufus sauntered over and sat beside Reno. “Did it work?” he asked, leaning in to press his mouth against the warmth of Reno’s slightly parted lips.


	2. Reno: By Cherry

Reno’s apartment is nothing like Rufus expected. For one thing, it’s a lot smaller than he knows Reno can afford. It’s also a lot tidier than the way Reno dresses led him to guess it would be.

Rufus is a little disturbed when he realises how much time he has wasted on guessing how this will be.

The bedroom is little more than functional. Almost all the available room is taken up by the bed, which is at least made, if inexpertly. It lacks a headboard, or any ornament at all. The bedding is grey, and not untasteful.

“Nothin’ to your place,” Reno says, an edge in his voice that sounds like a challenge, but which Rufus, to his surprise, thinks is actually nerves. “Don’t like too much empty space, you know?”

Against the grey sheets Reno’s hair is beautiful.

Rufus wakes from a deep sleep, utterly content. He thinks of his own bed, and tries to remember how much he spent on the custom-made mattress that still isn’t as comfortable as this one. “Wherever did you get this bed?” he asks. Reno blinks, still half asleep. “I didn’t. It was here when I moved in.”

Rufus’ automatic horror shows on his face, and Reno laughs. “What?” he says, running a warm hand over Rufus’ chest, and, inevitably, lower. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it, so why change it?”

Somehow, right now, Rufus can’t find a reason to disagree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Reno headcanon varies between him being totally scruffy to actually quite tidy because he’s never owned much, and still doesn’t. He takes care of what he does have. He wouldn’t waste a perfectly good bed. I don’t think he likes open plan, even though he likes the freedom of open space outdoors, and flying. But when he’s asleep he likes walls around him, and he likes to sit with his back to the wall, with the exits in sight. It’s a survival thing.


	3. Tseng: By Licoriceallsorts

They had to pass by Tseng’s flat to collect the false ID Veld wanted him to use. “Do you want to come in, or wait in the car?” Tseng asked Reno.

            Casual question: momentous occasion. Reno, aged eighteen and a half, already considered himself a veteran of the Department of Administrative Affairs; what he didn’t know about his colleagues wasn’t worth knowing, and he knew for a fact that nobody in the whole department had ever been invited inside the place where Tseng lived - not even Cissnei, and everybody knew the Boss had a soft spot for her. Acting all nonchalant (he was dying of curiosity, but he’d be damned if he let Tseng see) he shrugged and said, “Yeah, I’ll come up, I guess. Better’n waiting here like a lemon.”

            The flat both was and wasn’t what he’d expected. Tidy, of course, but not inhumanly so. Bookshelves, not just for show: one book with a bookmark was lying on the coffee table. A real fireplace, smelling faintly of soot. A plant on the bathroom windowsill, thriving. Real wood floors. Lowlights. The whole effect was kind of warm and relaxing.

            He’d been hoping the bed would be at least a little bit kinky, but it really didn’t give his imagination anything to work with. There was no swagging, the posts were all wrong for handcuffs, and the frame didn’t look strong enough to hang anything (or anyone) from. The bedsheets were cotton, not silk or (as Reno had rather been hoping) satin, and they were neither black nor white but a cosy kind of colour, pinkish-golden brown. At the foot of the bed was a leather upholstered ottoman, the kind that lifted up so you could keep your linens in it. Draped over it, as if dropped there and forgotten, lay a pale orange scarf made of very fine wool.

            Tseng didn’t make any big deal of the scarf, he just picked it up and wrapped it round his neck. Maybe he’d bought it for himself, but Reno didn’t think so. With that fringe, it looked more like a woman’s scarf. Fancy yet tasteful. Or the kind of scarf a woman would give a man as a present.

            “Nice place. You ever bring any chicks back here?” he asked, standing by the fireplace with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

            Tseng shot him a funny look. Some might have called it a smile. "You know that would be against regulations, Reno."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Licoriceallsorts: If anyone wants to add a bedroom+story, either for any of the other Turks or for the one’s we’ve done already (since I’m sure they’ve all lived in more than one bedroom in their lives!) please, go ahead. I’ve love to see what you come up with. All stories are posted to this thread on Tumblr:
> 
> http://cameoamalthea.tumblr.com/post/62530595527/reglissenoire-reno-is-my-poison-cameoamalthea
> 
> Then collected here.


	4. Tseng: By CameoAmalthea

Night had fallen hours ago in Midgar and a strong winter chill hung in the air.Fortunately, Rufus’s layered hoodie with a zip up turtleneck was more than enough to keep out the chill. It was not his usual coat, just a slim cut cotton jacket, nor was it his usual color.

 Rather the lower layer of the jacket was light gray, and the outer hoodie was dark gray. Beneath it, Rufus wore a white dress shirt, un-tucked, and that was the only white he wore and the only thing suggesting professional dress, for his trousers were nothing more than designer jeans. Rufus didn’t want to be recognized, but with his hood drawn up over his face and his head cast down, he doubted he’d be noticed. Just in case he ran into trouble, he had a pistol holstered at his side, concealed beneath the jacket.

 Tseng had told him he was moving back to his old place. The apartment he'd kept years ago before Fuhito's AVALANCHE and all the associated trouble. At some point, over the years, security interests had forced all the Turks to practically live in the building. Now, AVALANCHE had been defeated, and though another group bearing their name had arisen, Tseng had decided to move back to his old flat and put things like they were before, perhaps to say 'one crisis is over, things can return to normal'. Even is things would never be the same, years had passed, Veld was gone, and a new crisis was upon them: A new AVALANCHE and Sephiroth.

Rufus doubted Tseng would be able to see much of his apartment for awhile. Tomorrow was a new mission. For tonight, Rufus was here. He knew the number of Tseng’s apartment and pressed the button at the door to buzz him.

“Hello?” came Tseng’s voice.

“Tseng,” he said, “It’s Rufus. Will you let me in?” 

The door opened immediately. Rufus went inside the building and rode the elevator to right floor, only to be met by Tseng as soon as the elevator’s doors opened.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

 “I’m fine,” said Rufus, voice affecting a sort of confused innocence as though he had no idea why Tseng would be alarmed by the new President of Shinra EPC showing up at his door unannounced and uninvited. “Can we continue this conversation inside? I came all the way here to see you, you should at least invite me in and offer me a cup of tea.” He doubted Tseng even had tea, the man didn’t seem to like the stuff and unlike Rufus, preferred coffee, and in truth Rufus would take whatever Tseng offered him.

As soon as they were inside Tseng started with the lectures. “Sir, you can’t be out on your own. What if you were recognized? Do you know how dangerous-” 

“Of course I do, Tseng, I’m not a child,” said Rufus, “my risks are calculated. AVALANCHE fled the city so there’s no risk of running into anti-Shinra forces and the public hasn’t seen my face in years – half the point of the parade I’m planning is to remind them what I look like.”

“Yes, I’m sure jumping out of the helicopter onto a roof where known terrorists were waiting was entirely calculated,” said Tseng.

“I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?” asked Rufus. “But I’ll take your concerns under advisement. I promise, I’ll never jump out of a helicopter again.”

 “Why are you here?” asked Tseng. 

“I was in the neighborhood and I thought, you know who makes a great cup of coffee? Tseng,” said Rufus, before dropping the playful sarcasm in favor of complete honesty. “I’m here to see you. Finding Sephiroth is going to be our priority and there’s AVALANCHE to think about. I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will bring, but I have a feeling my Presidency isn’t going to have an easy start. So I,” his voice faltered, his usual matter-of-fact eloquence replaced by nervous hesitation, “I wanted some time with you. Time is precious, isn’t it? So I could steal a moment?”

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?” asked Tseng.

“Well, I had hoped to be here in the morning,” said Rufus. 

 

X

 

The sight of Tseng’s bedroom was enough to take Rufus’s breath away. He loved the floor plan. Open and yet warm. The lighting was his favorite. Looking at the bathroom, which opened from the bedroom, there were rows of neat lights spaced along the bathroom ceiling. In reality there were only four lights, but the mirror created the allusion of rows in a line. The room had many nice straight lines.

The black lines on the glass doors between the bathroom and the bedroom that could be slid shut to provide privacy. The lines formed by the perfectly square ottoman, mattress and head board that formed a stair step pattern, higher and higher, in neat lines. The square straight lines of the four-poster bed, everything here was neat squares and lines: clean and controlled.

Like Tseng himself who was always perfect. However, this perfection was not harsh. The room’s lighting seemed gentle, welcoming. This space was safe. Was this where Tseng let himself fully relax?

Perhaps that was the question that had brought him here. What would that place look like, and would he be welcome there?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CameoAmalthea: In general the point of the round robbin is to add new rooms and new stories to go with them. I'm sorry for not following the rules and adding more furniture, but I really liked Tseng’s bedroom and wanted to write more about it. I hope that’s all right.
> 
> The room Licorice shared was Tseng's apartment pre-Before Crisis, so Rufus probably wouldn't have gotten to see it, but I wanted Rufus to see it because he'd love it. It's so perfect. So I made up a reason for Tseng to go back there.
> 
> I'm not sure if Tseng is really the type to keep his apartment maintained just as he left it when he moved out, as if to promise himself things will go back to normal and he will move back in eventually, and I'm less sure he'd actually try to go home after all those years. But maybe going back was a sort of victory. They did survive that crisis, there was a home to go back to, at least that time.
> 
> Rufus’s casual clothing http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=bl_sr_apparel?ie=UTF8&field-brandtextbin=TheLees&node=1036592 (with thanks to Kingofbeartraps for linking me to that


	5. Elena: By nolifeinabox

 

Rude hadn’t expected Elena’s place to be so…cozy. Yes, cozy was definitely the word, and it reminds him how much he  _doesn’t_  know the newbie.

The apartment is small, all one room, maybe 400 square feet altogether. That’s expected. From his spot in the doorway he can see the whole thing. But there is no curtain, or folding screen, no division between the public and private spaces.That, is decidedly not expected.

Most of the apartment is the bed, which Elena is currently half under, pulling something out. It butts right up against the chairs where guests obviously sit, and often, and the table where she must take her meals, because there’s nothing in the small kitchenette but a sink-full of unwashed dishes.   
  
He is almost taken aback by the yellow and the white and the round lines and the used, personable  _softness_  of the room.  
  
When he looks at her he see’s precision, protocol, eager professionalism. He had expected the hard lines and the metal and the glass of one fighting their way out of another shadow, of one who has no time for personal indulgences, because she is, and she doesn’t.

"Got it!" She chimes, standing now with the retrieved briefcase, all business in the middle of all this warmth.  
  
He hopes, not for the first time since their world began to fall apart, that maybe Elena can be a new kind of Turk.


	6. Knives: Dream Bedroom, by Licoriceallsorts

[](http://s738.photobucket.com/user/licoriceallsorts/media/268013_room5_zps01aa0302.jpg.html)

The same day Knives moved into her company housing, Asher showed up at the door, carrying a bouquet of daisies (“housewarming present!”) and a crystal vase (“because you won’t have unpacked yet”). Excited and proud, Knives showed him her new space. It still seemed incredible to her that this was all hers and hers alone, her castle, her kingdom of privacy - the sofa, the TV, the shower, the huge bed (big enough for an entire family!) the fridge that was always going to be full of all the food she liked, that she could eat any time she felt hungry. And there was hot water in the shower! Twenty-four hours a day!

"It’s… cosy," said Asher. "I like the bedside lights. Oh hey, even the towels have the company logo. Crazy!"

"I’m going to put up posters," she told him. "And get some cushions. And maybe a rug. I saw a nice one in Robson’s window."

"Oh, don’t waste your money at Robson’s," said Asher. "Those rugs are cheap imitations. Real gelims have a woolen warp and are coloured with vegetable dyes; they last for centuries. My mum’s got some in storage at the cottage. If you like, I can get her to send you one. She won’t mind, she’ll be glad to know a friend of mine is using it. I think we’ve got a blue and gold one that’ll match the colour scheme here perfectly. I’ll take a picture…"

"Thanks," said Knives. It was a kind offer. Asher was such a generous guy. She didn’t know why she felt deflated all of a sudden. 

"Hey, want to see my place?" he asked. She nodded, and he held out his PHS so she could see the screen while he scrolled through picture after picture. With each new image, her heart sank a little further. Her whole studio could have fitted neatly into his bedroom with space left over. This place, which seemed so wonderful to her, was nothing special to him. Probably his servants lived in apartments like hers. 

She knew he wasn’t trying to spoil her pleasure on purpose - he was a nice guy, with a good heart, and she liked him, she really did, only… He didn’t seem to understand that bedrooms were a luxury of the rich. 

When she was very small, bedtime meant her mother taking the rush mats and blankets from the chest and spreading them on the floor next to the fire. At the orphanage she had slept in a ‘real’ bed for the first time in her life; she had shared her bunk with three others, in a dormitory lined with two double rows of rusty metal bunk-beds that creaked whenever somebody turned over. And then when she was with the circus, she’d slept in the damp tent with the other kids, all of them curled like puppies in a nest of rags and old blankets and newspapers…

…And on the nights when she couldn’t sleep she had sometimes let herself dream of the bedroom she’d seen once in a magazine she’d found just lying on the ground, carelessly dropped or perhaps thrown away, an abandoned treasure. If she closed her eyes she could pretend she was there, lying in that big soft clean bed; pretend that the bodies of the other children were the stuffed pink cushions, pretend that the cuddly toys were gifts to her from her daddy, pretend she could hear the breeze stirring in the branches outside the beautiful window, pretend that her mummy was coming in soon to tuck her in and read from the big book open on the armchair. But no matter how long she waited, she always fell asleep before her mother came, and when she woke, she was back in the tent and a cold wind was blowing through the canvas. 

[](http://s738.photobucket.com/user/licoriceallsorts/media/childrens_bedroom_little_girls_room_shades_of_pink_used_throughout_peter_rabbit_theme_mural_p_LJW1_2349-072_zps0449b172.jpg.html)


	7. Nunchaku: A Turk's Room By CameoAmalthea

When Asher first came to Midgar he’d rented a room in one of the hotels on Loveless Avenue.  Although he’d been called to Midgar for a job offer with the Turks it just seemed too good to be true and he didn’t want to start looking at apartments just yet, lest he jinx it. He also didn't dare accept the offer of company housing, as much as he'd have loved to live in rooms specifically for the Turks, because he didn't want to be burden. He'd cover his own place and moving expenses, heck, he would have worked for free if they'd let him! It was only after he’d completed training and his first mission that he started to believe that this was real, he belonged to the Turks, that no one was going to tell him they'd made a mistake and he needed to leave. It was only then that Asher began to look for more permanent accommodations in Midgar. 

His parents had given him a sizable trust fund and shares in his mother’s company from which he drew dividends. Even without his Turk’s salary Asher would have been considered well off by anyone’s standards.  Since money being no object, he could easily afford the poshest pent house or spacious suburban home the upper plate had to offer. In the end, he chose a reasonably sized condo, nothing too fancy. He didn’t want to stand out, after all, and he wouldn’t need much.

It took him sometime to decide how to decorate his new home, especially the bedroom. Back home he’d had classic styled furniture, solid wood, completely traditional and very pretty with a creamy white finish and little pink roses painted in the center of each piece. Asher liked pink, any shade of red really, back home he had a red curtain sham and a red comforter, which went well with the pink. The curtains had been yellow, adding a cheerful touch. Light and cheerful described the whole room really, and his room back him had suited him perfectly from the mirrored vanity to the large freestanding wardrobe. 

However, the more he looked at furniture the more he knew that here and now a room like that just wouldn’t do. It all seemed too soft, too sweet, too elaborate- almost gaudy. Asher was keenly aware that he was different from the others. He’d researched the Turks, and from what little he could find all of them seemed to have been chosen, rather than applying. From what he gleaned about his new collogues so far, most of them were plucked out of rough backgrounds and bad situations. They had real life experience, nothing sheltered and soft like his peaceful childhood at his family’s mansion. 

Asher couldn’t imagine inviting someone like Reno or Trig back to his place if he decorated like some fancy dollhouse. No, he needed a room to fit a Turk!

 So it was that Asher chose plain square furniture to match the neat square lines of the room. A dark blue plaid bedspread seemed nice and serious, dark colors were, after all. The room was modern, minimalist, and in the end painted a dark purple, because purple was one of his favorite colors and it was still his room after all. He also couldn’t help but be taken in by all the sales on ‘form furniture’ for kids starting at university. So he wound up with foldable chairs and fake flowers, a touch of pink, which looked so good with the purple, and even a mini fridge for in room snacks. He really liked decorating, and joining the Turks was sort of like going to University. Starting a new life, learning new things, making new friends.

This was it, his first place on his own. He spent hours taking pictures of it and sending them to his mom. 

The first time Reno invited him out to Goblins with the guys, he’d asked to stop off at home to change into something more comfortable and invited Reno up. He’d been very nervous, hoping the room would somehow meet the older Turk’s approval.

As Asher stepped inside the walk in closet to change, he heard Reno ask. “Is that a  _pink_  mini-fridge?”

“Yeah,” Asher called, “There’s beer inside, if you want one help yourself.”

Reno called back his thanks and said nothing else about the room. 

 


	8. Rude: A Turk's Room by Hecate's Brat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Tumblr Funiture Round Robin that's happening. You find a picture of a room and write a bit about it. This is a snippet from a three part series. I just now found an image that would fit perfectly.

Slowly, like every morning he pulled out the shaving kit and laid the instruments out, lather brush, new blade, lather, straight edged razor and a couple of towels.

The sound of running water filled the bathroom and the warm steam quickly enveloped the naked form.

The stiff towel grew limp and gave way to the hot water. Hands pressed on the marble counter top and Rude sighed again. He realized he would need to wake Reno soon and try to sober him up.

However, for the time being, it was a moment in time, a sliver just for him. For him to prepare for the day.

With slow and considerate care the towel was drained of its excess water and wrung; the towel was now soft against Rude’s face. He placed it on his stubbly scalp and relaxed from the warmth.

Closing his eyes he reached for the lather and brush. The movements came unbidden, second nature really; like breathing or fighting. The tension flowed out of the tall form, the slowly cooling cloth felt soothing, like lyrical salve from a team leader after a bruised ego.

Movements were smooth and the lather began to foam on the brush. The towel landed with a soft splat on the counter top and the sounds of the brush on scalp was soon heard.

Silence, much like the majority of the life he lead as a Turk, was all he had to offer to the steam.

Placing the brush and lather bar on the casing, he picked up the razor, changed the blades, never once looking at the equipment his hands held. Never once worried about making a mistake; being trained as he was, one had to have trust in themselves. Or failure would occur.

The goatee on Rude’s chin touched his chest, and the scraping sound of the straightedge was heard softly echoing in the bathroom. The blade followed the nape of the neck, up to the occipital bone, and over the curve of the back of the head. The blade sliced through water until it came up clean and the process started over again. Motions filled with precision shaved the rest of the curves on Rude’s head, leaving a bald crown.

Amber eyes peered back from the mirror. The hot water faucet turned on and steam quickly hid the watching eyes.

Once the tall Turk was sure that there was no more hair, the blades were cleaned and wiped down, the brush rinsed off of the excess lather, and all tools were placed back into their proper places.

Snuffling and incoherent mumbles overtook the silence and Rude knew that Reno was up, and soon, he’d have to take care of his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned that it was from a three part series that I wrote, but didn't add a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985486


End file.
